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Authors: Hunter Shea
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confused, in need of someone to talk to that wouldn’t laugh or worse, take advantage of them. Winning the lottery made it possible to pursue his passion without the need to extract money from those in need of comfort.
Plus, there was always the chance of coming face to face with the unexplained. He had come close a few times, but nothing on a grand scale. There was the occasional odd reading on his various meters, a faint, disembodied voice on an audio tape, stepping into a cold spot that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Those moments kept him going.
Most field work was pretty boring and a lot of effort went into finding nothing.
He’d been asked more than once if he was, in fact, searching for Anne. He prayed that her spirit had moved on and dreaded the possibility of finding something to the contrary. In the beginning, he had made attempts to see if a part of her still lingered in their home, but all he got in return was videos of empty rooms and recordings of static. He had to make the assumption that her spirit was where it was supposed to be, no matter how hard it was to accept that he could no longer hold her in his arms.
John lifted his video camera with a grunt, I’m not getting any younger , and trotted up the stairs. The air on the second floor was stale and hot. Large droplets of sweat slid down his face as he lay out the cables and tested the camera. A few minutes later, dark crescent moons blotted the underarms of his shirt. His heart raced with the exertion and cloying heat.
John felt the first pinpricks of anxiety start to take root deep in his belly. Breathing was becoming a chore and he felt cold beneath the layer of perspiration that had broken out all over his body.
He dropped a handful of cable and leaned against the wall.
Steady.
His heart rate doubled. His head felt lighter, followed by his hands and feet. Suddenly, his bladder felt like it was ready to burst.
“You’re cool, John. Nothing’s going to happen. You’re just winded, that’s all. Nothing wrong with getting winded, especially when it’s this fucking hot,” he said to himself.
After a few deep breaths, the anxiety started to recede. Calmer, he resumed his task, taking it slower, listening to the muffled sound of Eve and Ed talking in the kitchen. When he was done, he rinsed his face off in the bathroom sink, savoring the kiss of cold water, letting it flow across his wrists. The last thing he wanted to do was shamble into the kitchen white as a sheet. That would have sent Ed over the edge.
Eve handed over the audio tapes and smiled when he walked in.
“All set,” he told Ed. “If you need anything at all, please feel free to call me.” He handed him a gray business card.
Ed Smythe thanked them both several times as he walked them to the front door. Eve waved as they drove away.
“Poor guy,” she said. “You can tell he’s so alone and afraid.”
“You should go out to dinner with him. I’m sure that would ease his problems far more than anything I can do.” John smiled and Eve lightly punched his arm.
“Do you think there’s a ghost in Ed’s house?” she asked.
“Other than the shadow of his unfulfilled dreams? Probably not. You never know, though. For his sake, I actually hope it is some kind of spirit. Something tells me a little excitement might be just what the doctor ordered.”
“And if it isn’t?”
“That’s an even tougher road. Then the ghost is in his own mind, and that’s a lot harder to get a handle on.”
Chapter Ten
Sheriff Gary High Bear was just finishing the last of his coffee when Erica placed his check face down by his plate. He gently placed the cup back on the coffee-stained saucer and smiled.
“No free pass for the sole protector of the town?”
The diner had thinned out considerably over the past twenty minutes as everyone hauled themselves to work. The sound of the radio, tuned to the local news station, was now the predominant
Plus, there was always the chance of coming face to face with the unexplained. He had come close a few times, but nothing on a grand scale. There was the occasional odd reading on his various meters, a faint, disembodied voice on an audio tape, stepping into a cold spot that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Those moments kept him going.
Most field work was pretty boring and a lot of effort went into finding nothing.
He’d been asked more than once if he was, in fact, searching for Anne. He prayed that her spirit had moved on and dreaded the possibility of finding something to the contrary. In the beginning, he had made attempts to see if a part of her still lingered in their home, but all he got in return was videos of empty rooms and recordings of static. He had to make the assumption that her spirit was where it was supposed to be, no matter how hard it was to accept that he could no longer hold her in his arms.
John lifted his video camera with a grunt, I’m not getting any younger , and trotted up the stairs. The air on the second floor was stale and hot. Large droplets of sweat slid down his face as he lay out the cables and tested the camera. A few minutes later, dark crescent moons blotted the underarms of his shirt. His heart raced with the exertion and cloying heat.
John felt the first pinpricks of anxiety start to take root deep in his belly. Breathing was becoming a chore and he felt cold beneath the layer of perspiration that had broken out all over his body.
He dropped a handful of cable and leaned against the wall.
Steady.
His heart rate doubled. His head felt lighter, followed by his hands and feet. Suddenly, his bladder felt like it was ready to burst.
“You’re cool, John. Nothing’s going to happen. You’re just winded, that’s all. Nothing wrong with getting winded, especially when it’s this fucking hot,” he said to himself.
After a few deep breaths, the anxiety started to recede. Calmer, he resumed his task, taking it slower, listening to the muffled sound of Eve and Ed talking in the kitchen. When he was done, he rinsed his face off in the bathroom sink, savoring the kiss of cold water, letting it flow across his wrists. The last thing he wanted to do was shamble into the kitchen white as a sheet. That would have sent Ed over the edge.
Eve handed over the audio tapes and smiled when he walked in.
“All set,” he told Ed. “If you need anything at all, please feel free to call me.” He handed him a gray business card.
Ed Smythe thanked them both several times as he walked them to the front door. Eve waved as they drove away.
“Poor guy,” she said. “You can tell he’s so alone and afraid.”
“You should go out to dinner with him. I’m sure that would ease his problems far more than anything I can do.” John smiled and Eve lightly punched his arm.
“Do you think there’s a ghost in Ed’s house?” she asked.
“Other than the shadow of his unfulfilled dreams? Probably not. You never know, though. For his sake, I actually hope it is some kind of spirit. Something tells me a little excitement might be just what the doctor ordered.”
“And if it isn’t?”
“That’s an even tougher road. Then the ghost is in his own mind, and that’s a lot harder to get a handle on.”
Chapter Ten
Sheriff Gary High Bear was just finishing the last of his coffee when Erica placed his check face down by his plate. He gently placed the cup back on the coffee-stained saucer and smiled.
“No free pass for the sole protector of the town?”
The diner had thinned out considerably over the past twenty minutes as everyone hauled themselves to work. The sound of the radio, tuned to the local news station, was now the predominant
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